


We Weren't Supposed to be Naked

by AlleiraDayne



Series: Bang Your Head (Metal Health) [8]
Category: Dragon Age Inquisition - Fandom, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Modern: No Powers, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Domination, Edging, F/M, Fluff, Lots of Smutt, Modern Era, Modern Thedas, Smutt, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-07
Updated: 2015-12-07
Packaged: 2018-05-05 10:17:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5371631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleiraDayne/pseuds/AlleiraDayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Amallia comes home to find a note on her door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Weren't Supposed to be Naked

**Author's Note:**

> An anonymous user and @Lupalavellan from tumblr prompted me from the Smut Prompt list: surprise discovery of an overly-sensitive body part for cullen x mal in your AU :)

Night arrived ever earlier as winter neared and the biting breeze hinted at colder weather well on its way. Amallia pulled her coat tighter, adjusting her scarf to better cover her neck. The quick walk from the studio to her apartment was enough to put a chill in her she could not wait to soothe.

Through the front door of the building, she rushed to the steps, taking them two at a time to get her blood pumping. By the fourth floor she was breathing well, and she could feel her fingers and toes once again. In three more flights, she reached her floor and with a right and then a left, she strode down the hall, boots thumping roughly on the floor. As she neared her door, her thoughts drifted to a hot bath, and maybe a pair of strong, skilled hands to rub away some of her stress. That brief fantasy was interrupted as she paused before her door, curiosity piqued.

A black piece of paper, carefully folded in half, was stuck to the center of her door. She plucked it from the wood and thumbed the flap open to reveal silvery ink plied by a slanted hand she knew all too well.

_I’m no good at riddles but I can still get you thinking, heart racing. To start, you’ll need to turn around and unlock the door. Be patient. Before you enter, close your eyes, and trust me._

Maker, she’d forgotten. Of all the days she could have forgotten, she forgot  _this_  day. It seemed like it was merely a month ago, the first night they’d spent together. But it had been two  _years_ ago. To the day. Not even his gift that morning had given her the hint. That was just Cullen’s way. Little romantic gestures, so often she felt spoiled.

Slowly, she turned to look over her shoulder and then cautiously approached his door. Her heart galloped in her chest, racing at the ideas, the possibilities all a blur in her mind. Cullen was right. He was an expert at driving her crazy. Fingers shaking, she fumbled her key in the deadbolt and unlocked it, then placed the second key in the handle and turned.

Before she entered, she did as she had been instructed. Her eyes fluttered shut, and the thrill of the unknown had her chest heaving in anticipation. Unsteady without her eyesight, she pushed the door open and took two nervous steps forward, the door shutting behind her with a soft  _click_.

Darkness and deafening silence. She froze in place, listening, feeling, remaining senses grasping for anything, a shuffle, a scent. Her fingers splayed in the air at her sides, arms rigid, tense. A minute that lasted an eternity passed before she heard the creak of his hardwood floors as someone –  _Cullen_  – stepped towards her.

One careful step, followed by another. The air shifted around her, pressure rising as his body neared hers. She startled at the brief touch of his warm fingers brushing her palm, and she could hear him breathing, steady and measured as he stepped behind her.

The softest silk met her eyes, heavily folded, and she gasped as the fabric slowly tightened behind her head. Deft fingers trailed a blazing path down her neck to her shoulders and she felt his chest against her back as he leaned in to whisper, breath scalding the shell of her ear.

“Not too tight?”

Maker, his voice. If he kept that up, she would fall to pieces right there. She bit at her bottom lip, anticipation driving a scorching heat to her core and she knew her underwear would be ruined in another second.

“Pup?”

She gasped once more at his insistent voice, forgetting he had asked her a question. “It’s perfect,” she replied and the rumble of his pleased hum vibrated deep in her chest. The weight of her coat lifted from her shoulders and the fabric fell to the floor in a rush, pooling at her feet. Her ears strained as she sensed his movements and her heart skipped a beat as he grasped her behind one knee and another hand wiggled her boot free. The other boot was removed as swiftly and the cold wood floor seeped through her stockings.

His breath returned to her neck, lips brushing softly to caress, to tease, and his chest met hers as his arms encircled her. The tug at the zipper of her skirt set her squirming in his arms, thighs squeezing together to ease the ache between them. Cullen was patient, far more patient than she ever could be, but this? This was patience on a completely different level, even for him. And the thrill of it all had her wanting, no,  _needing_  more.

With a flutter of fabric, her skirt fell to the floor to rest next to her coat. His grasp at her wrist sent a swathe of gooseflesh up her arm as he coaxed her to take two steps forward. And then, hesitation. She felt his fingers pause at the first button of her shirt, just below her collarbone, and his voice shot a fresh wave of lust to her slickened heat.

“Do you like this shirt?”

An odd question to be sure. “It’s … just a shirt.”

His touch vanished. Nothing. For another eternity she felt nothing except the wild anticipation of what would come next, what he would do to her. When his hands returned, she startled, shocked as his fists grasp the fabric of her shirt roughly and tore it away. Every distinct pop of each button shattered the silence, mingling with her cry of surprise.

“Oh, Mal,” he whispered and she imagined his gaze on her nearly naked form, drinking her in. “You wore it.”

She hoped he could see her grin in the dark. “How could I not?” she asked as she thumbed the top of her red garter belt. “I love wearing these sorts of presents. They make me feel so … so …”

Her thought faded as Cullen put his lips so near her ear, she thought she might come undone right there, and he whispered, “Alluring? Sensual? Sexy? Hot?”

“ _Yes!_ ” she said with a flustered sigh. “All of it. Please, don’t stop.”

A growl rumbled in his throat as his fingers lightly brushed her chest, dangerously close to her breasts but only enough to tease. And tease he did, fingers trailing up to her collar to slip her shirt from her shoulders. The ruined garment fell away, discarded, and his fingers never left her skin, barely touching her and driving her mad with desire for more.

Back across her shoulders, down to her collar, he continued to touch, to tease, slowly building her arousal. Amallia could hardly stand still, thighs squeezing together in such profound longing and it took all of her concentration not to tear off that blighted blindfold and pounce on Cullen. With parted lips, her breaths shortened, shallow and ragged as he continued to tease her with his feather light caress. Nothing in the world compared to his touch, deft fingers knowing exactly where to arouse her. Anything better was impossible.

At least, that’s what she’d thought. And then the tip of a single finger brushed over the hollow of her neck. Her shoulders tensed, hands fisted, nails dug into her palms, and she cried out a high, mewling moan as her head tipped back. Maker, his touch was perfect, and she knew her sudden outburst of pleasure had surprised him, for his fingers lingered, completely still at the center of her collar.

“Too much?” he asked, voice low and full of lust.

With a vigorous shake of her head, she moaned softly as she bit her bottom lip, teeth dragging as she pulled. “No, I’m … just surprised.” Before she knew it, she was reaching for him to find his arms, only for him to return them to her sides.

Smooth, warm, and wet, the tip of his tongue licked along the hollow of her neck, slow and deliberate flicks. Dizzy, lightheaded, she had to hold on to something, anything, and her hands reached out to discover his  _bare_  shoulders. Maker, had he been shirtless the entire time?

Her thought fled when his tongue withdrew from her flesh and she cried out in protest. Sweet Andraste, that  _spot_. His tongue. And the way he hummed as he tasted her, feasted on her. But then his lips were at her ear again and his hands grasped both of her wrists tightly to once again return them to her sides.

“That may cost you, pup. It seems as though I’ve found a new and particularly sensitive spot,” he whispered as the tip of a finger returned to her neck. “Just here.” Her toes curled against the hard floor and a shiver crept up her spine. “But I’m not done exploring it yet.” His lips trailed down her neck to return to the center of her collar. “For now.”

The sudden wet warmth of his tongue returning to the hollow of her neck crashed a tidal wave of euphoric pleasure over her entire body. Her back arched into him and the sweetest contact of his flesh on hers, breasts meeting the hot skin of his chest, had her shaking with raw pleasure, breaths barely coming in short, staccato pants.

This time, he was not as gentle. Lips, tongue, teeth, all against her flesh and she nearly broke his rule again. Her hands quivered, flicking up to grasp his shoulders once more, but she held firm, obeyed his instructions, and stood as still as possible while he feasted on her flesh once more.

A hand, powerful and deliberate, grasped her shoulder at the crook of her neck as his lips left her skin and she shuddered at the change of touch. He thumbed the wetness at her throat left behind by his tongue, grasp gliding up to hold her firmly just beneath her jaw. Her gasping moan echoed about the room, escaping past pursed lips ripped apart as his breath, short and ragged as her own, returned to her collar.

Her mind was a blur of images, struggling to guess what Cullen would do next, but Amallia did not have to wait long. Deft fingers met her thighs just above the knees, prying them apart as he slipped them up, ever higher, closer and closer, until they finally touched the pooled heat at her core. A guttural moan tore through her chest as he pulled her in tightly, one arm wrapped around her back as the other worked at her slickened underwear. Her own mewling cry mingled with his at his sudden slip of control and she could have wept at the shock of his entire body, smoldering skin meeting hers in a rush.

Naked. The entire time.  _Andraste preserve me, he’s been naked since I walked in the door!_

It took every ounce of her willpower not to scream out in ecstasy as his fingers between her thighs were replaced with the firm, thick length of his cock as he rolled his hips into her. His arm pinned her hips to his as he bucked again, stroking himself between her thighs and along the sopping wetness of her entrance, the underwear now an unfortunate barrier.

Her own hips rolled, wanton and lustful, relishing in the way his shaft eased the aching heat at her apex. Maker, why won’t he just  _take_  her, now, right there on the floor, or the counter, it was only five paces away, he could bend her over and  _fuck_  her, why wouldn’t he just do it?

Once again, her mind was swept blank as the clasp of her bra snapped open at the center of her back. In a flurry of arms and fabric, Cullen tore the bra away and immediately grasped her right breast. His fingers bit into the supple flesh, bruisingly rough and insistent. The pink peak beneath his palm pebbled against his skin and she knew he felt it as his lips crashed down onto hers with a grunting moan. His tongue speared into her mouth as he rolled his hips once more, stroking his throbbing erection with her thighs. She moaned into him, the sweetness of his tongue coupled with the persistent bucking of his hips sending a throbbing pulse of arousal to her cunt.

And just as he had lost control, hers fled in a panic as her hands grasped the firm cheeks of his ass, and his thrusting hips stopped as he hissed a seething gasp. Oh, she was in trouble, she knew, but the punishment was what she wanted, needed. Her patience with his teasing had been worn down to nothing, and there was no stopping her from taking him.

She tore the blindfold from her head as she parted from their kiss and her eyes  _finally_  met his, fiery amber darkened with a carnal lust she had never seen in him before. She could see the way his mind reeled at her taking over and his wicked grin tugged at the right corner of his lips, scar pulling taut as it  _always_  did. That grin faded when she pushed back from him, bodies parting, and his eyes widened as she kneeled before him.

Amallia breathed deeply, inhaling a waft of her own feminine scent spread along the length of his cock that throbbed with need before her lips. Her eyes never left his and she watched his mouth fall open as her hands slipped up his thighs, past his groin – she couldn’t let him get away with teasing her – to the deeply angled muscles of his hips.

And then he cried out a high, gasping moan the likes of which she had never heard from him before. His entire body shook under her touch as her nails dragged red lines along the tops of his hips, back down along the angular muscles to his groin. Marked gasps, sharp and short continued to pull from Cullen’s chest as she pressed her lips to the top of his left hip and her tongue slowly eased out to give the crest a long, languid  _lick_.

The sight of him towering above her, knees so weak from her caress, spread a grin across her face she could not contain. With the tables turned, she’d found a spot of her own with which she could tease him relentlessly.

“What is this?” she purred as she lightly fingered the groove of the muscle. “A sensitive spot, just for me?”

Another high, whining moan passed his lips as he ran a hand through his hair. “Oh, Mal, please don’t.”

She gasped, feigning offense. “ _That_  is not fair, Mr. Rutherford. If you get to tease me, then I get to tease you.”

His grin returned, impish and wider than ever. “But, Mal, you  _like_  it when I tease you,” he jested.

“And I know you like it when I tease you back,” she shot back and without warning, she returned her lips to his flesh, Cullen crying out in shock.

Teeth and lips and tongue, each in turn, trailed a path from the top of his left hip along the muscle until she reached the base of his shaft, and his erection twitched at the nearness of her lips. More soft, high moans echoed above her head and she marveled at such a feminine sound coming from a man like him.

Balance. In all things, balance, so her lips met the crest of his right hip to mimic the caress of his flesh as she had done to his left. Her hands grasped his ass greedily, nails digging into the firm muscles and the quiver of his thighs aroused her further than she thought possible.

Once returned to the base of his cock, she ended her teasing as she let her lips glide along the length, up to the engorged flesh of the head. An uncontrolled thrust of his hips had him babbling apologies but she silenced him, lips taking the crown of his cock into the warm, sinful wetness of her mouth.

Maker, but did he taste amazing, his soft skin gliding along her tongue that swirled in circles as she took in his entire length to the back of her throat. She hummed a moan and the vibration set him to twitching, throbbing. His cock swelled further, his release creeping ever closer as she bobbed her head slowly and his hands grasped her hair.

“Mal,” he moaned, grip tightening. “I … can’t. Maker, I can’t hold on much longer.”

She released him with a wet slurp and his erection flexed at the cool air on his skin. In the darkness, the only light illuminating him was that of the moon from the large window behind him, mingled juices on his cock reflecting the dull light. Her fingers eased their grip at his pert ass, ghosting up and over his hips to thumb the crest of each once more and a fresh shiver of pleasure coursed over his body, muscles trembling.

When she stood, Cullen wasted no time in wrapping his arms around Amallia and picking her up, hands grasping her bottom roughly. Her moaning gasp only served to spur Cullen onward, her hips rolling against his cock pressing at her heat to ease the ache a little further. He carried her to his bedroom and nearly dropped her on the bed, and she squealed in protest at his lack of grace. He only growled in response as he flipped on the lamp.

For the first time that evening, she saw him, powerful thighs, trim waist, broad chest, and rippling shoulders all tense and flexing, no longer patient as he had been earlier. His amber gaze glared with a lust that she had to sate, drinking in her form from head to stockinged toes. And before she realized what was happening, Cullen was on his knees, head reverently bowed between her thighs just above the knees, stubble rasping her sensitive skin as he spoke.

“Maker, what did I do to deserve this woman?”

“Nothing,” Amallia whispered in response. “He saw us and knew we were perfect for each other.”

When he looked up to her, Amallia smiled her special smile, one she seemed to reserve only for him. His own impish grin returned and his eyes fell to her stockings and underwear. “I think it’s about time you were rid of these, no?”

She nodded, biting her bottom lip as Cullen’s hands trailed up one thigh to release the straps of her garter. As the other side snapped free, Amallia reached behind her back and unclasped the belt, flinging it to the floor.

Through the sheer fabric of her stockings, Cullen placed light, tender kisses from her knee up to the top of the band where, with his teeth, he pulled the fabric away. His amber gaze flicked up to hers as he neared her knee and her breath caught in her throat at the sight. He was teasing her again, seeming to have found the dredges of his patience, and she wanted to scream in protest as her chest heaved with renewed lust. He must have detected her impatience, for when he removed her other stocking, he tore it away with the first and tossed them aside.

The rasp of his hands beneath her thighs broke gooseflesh out across the smooth, supple flesh, skin pebbling in anticipation as his fingers greedily grasped her ass. Fingers hooked into her underwear and tugged, teasing once more, and she hissed, sucking in a gasp through her teeth as Cullen pressed his lips to her entrance through the fabric and he inhaled deeply, eyes rolling into the back of his head as they flitted closed.

His guttural moan against her mound had her moaning in kind and she reached for his hair, fingers carding through the blond waves as he roughly jerked her underwear down, patience finally spent. Amallia cried out in surprise, a high pitched gasp as Cullen stripped the final garment from her and threw it over his shoulder.

He hesitated for the briefest second, seeming to consider a thought before he stood, quickly rising up to grab her by the hips and roughly push her further up onto the bed. The same fiery lust she’d seen in his eyes before had returned, blazing furiously and she knew that she was about to experience a punishment she would not soon forget.

His grasping fingers dug into the flesh of her thighs as he spread her legs. Her sharp, gasping breaths came shorter, anticipation at its peak. Maker, she needed him, needed only what he could give her, and every second of delay furthered the aching heat of her sex.

Cullen laid between her parted legs, his lips meeting hers at the apex of her thighs, so rough and yet so sweet, and she nearly screamed at the contact, crying out in ecstasy with her desires finally fulfilled. His moan coupled with hers, and she knew he relished in his own desires equally met, tasting the honeyed nectar of her quim. Tongue and lips and suckles, his ministrations were unlike anything she had ever felt and her hips writhed, grinding against his face as she babbled nonsense, his name falling repeatedly from her lips, urging him onward. When she chanced a look, she saw over his shoulder and down the curve of his spine, his hips rocking as he rutted against the bed, and the sight elicited a twitching flex between her legs.

Cullen wasted little time, wanting her release as much as she; two fingers speared into her soft, silken folds, gliding in with practiced ease as his lips sealed around her swollen bud to suck and lick in deliberate circles. Sure, confident strokes of his fingers, curling to hit that  _perfect_  spot had her head thrown back, eyes screwed shut, and hands grasping the sheets in fistfuls. She had never come undone so fast, so hard, so  _completely_ , that wave of euphoric pleasure she so craved crashing over her entire body as her back arched, blindingly bright behind tightly shut lids, and her throat burned raw with a screaming moan. He soothed her along the aftershocks of her orgasm, lapping up the last of her juices before he parted from her.

The smug smirk on his face glistened with her arousal, and her own smile faded, mouth dropping open as she watched Cullen bring his coated fingers to his lips. With a slow, languid suck, he cleaned his fingers of her nectar, eyes fluttering shut once again at her taste.

“I cannot believe how amazing you taste,” he sighed as his fingertips reached his lips.

Her knees pinned together absently, soothing the lingering pulses of her pleasure as she caught her breath, and she grinned at Cullen’s words. The moment lasted mere seconds, his eyes snapping open and he grasped her by the hips again, dragging her back down to the foot of the bed and flipping her over. Maker, he was relentless, seemingly insatiable, but Amallia wanted what she knew he was about to give her as much as he.

With a wanton arch of her spine, she swayed her hips, taunting him, and then there was the sudden grasp of his hand at the back of her neck. The thick length of his erection pressed to the heat of her entrance as he leaned over her, pinning her to the foot of the bed, and her deep, throaty moan coupled with his.

His hand slipped over her shoulder and down to her collar, the tips of his fingers brushing the hollow of her neck as he rolled his hips, and the shaft of his cock stroked along the lips of her cunt, teasing her clit and slickened with her arousal. Another deep moan dragged from her lungs, long and low, and Cullen continued to tease, rutting against her sopping folds as he continued to finger the hollow of her neck. She wished he would just take her, just fill her with his cock and fuck her until she couldn’t walk, but she knew he had a different plan in mind.

Amallia had never imagined that a touch as simple as the one at her throat would rival that of his erection stroking her cunt. But the heat of his breath behind her ear as he hunched over her back, an arm wrapped under her hips, and the fingers teasing her newly found sensitivity brought her to new heights of pleasure. The combination of such drastically different acts, one so tender and the other so raw and carnal, had her head spinning.  _Just as he had promised_.

Without warning, Cullen rolled his hips back so far that the head of his cock pressed against her entrance, and Amallia sucked in a breath, gasping loudly as he plunged into her, buried to the base of his shaft.

“Oh,  _fuck,_ Cullen, yes!” she cried out with a roll of her hips, stroking herself on the length of him filling her. Her hand flew to her core, seeking out her clit, only for Cullen to grasp her wrist and wrench it away above her head. Her other wrist joined and in one massive hand, he pinned both to the bed. She squirmed against him, not truly attempting to free herself, but she knew the act drove him mad and she grinned against the mattress as another growling moan passed his lips.

His free hand slipped beneath her hip to tease her clit, circles and flicks matching the rhythm of his hips as he thrust into her. Her panting moans grew shorter and sharper, staccato breaths marking her impending release.

“Yes, pup, come for me,” he whispered into her ear. “Do you like the way I fuck you?”

Her head swam in a rush of euphoria at his words, and she writhed beneath the weight of his body as he rutted into her. Between her mewling gasps, she sighed, “Oh, yes, love,  _harder_.”

With a growl, he did as she commanded, rising up from her and releasing her hands to grasp her by the hips. She braced herself against the mattress, fists tightly grabbing the pillows above her head as Cullen set a relentless pace, pistoning into her with wild abandon. The slapping of their bodies mingled with their coupled moans and sighs, grunts and gasps, and their combined scents, oak, musk, pine, sea salt, heather, and the distinct balm of sex made for a heady aroma that Amallia knew would linger for hours.

A fresh wave of heat bloomed deep within her core and Cullen must have felt the flexing walls about his cock, for a carnal growl echoed about the room and he gave her a deep, hard thrust as the flat of his hand came down on her ass, slap stinging in the perfect balance of pain and pleasure.

“Come again for me, pup, I want to  _feel_  your pleasure on my cock.”

She thought she may come from his words alone, but it took one more of his deep thrusts and over the edge she tumbled headlong, plunging deep into the release of her orgasm, and his name fell from her lips in repeated gasps. His continued thrusts kept her pulsing, and the return of his scorching flesh upon her back eased her down from the height of her pleasure.

They lay there for a moment, catching their breath until Cullen rolled to his back, and Amallia whimpered at the sudden emptiness between her legs. When she looked, she found his eyes closed, head propped up on his arms stretched above. And then the same thought occurred to her;  _Maker, what did I ever do to deserve this man?_  Her eyes followed the angular muscles of his chest, down his stomach, coming to an abrupt halt at the deep v-shaped grooves of his hips. It was as if they were pointing her to his groin, like a map directing her to where she needed to be. And there, from the trimmed curls of his blond hair, stood his throbbing erection. She started a moment, considering, thinking. It couldn’t be more perfect; any larger and she imagined she would be uncomfortable to take him in her. Length, girth, shape, she’d never seen –  _or felt_  – a more satisfying man. As if he knew her stare was on him, he  _twitched_.

Her eyes flicked back up to his, open now and a wicked grin spread across his entire face. “I’ve never asked this before. I assumed this was always the case, but, I want to hear you say it. Do you …” he paused, cheeks coloring in embarrassment. “You like it, right?”

Her own grin returned as she rose up to her knees and straddled his hips. “I  _love_ your cock.”

“Maker’s breath …” he breathed as he sat up and embraced her tightly, arms seeming to wrap around her entire body. “I love you.”

Her hands found his hair, fingertips rubbing his scalp in small circles. “I love you to, sweetheart,” she replied. “But we’re not finished yet,” she continued, voice darkening as she dragged rough nails down the back of his neck and over his chest, leaving red trails in their wake. Palm flat, she shoved him back down on the bed roughly, his gasp well earned.

“Yes, Mal.  _Fuck_  me,” he begged and she hummed her approval of his desires through her nose.

Her nails continued, both hands raking down his chest and his back arched in response, breath hissing through gritted teeth. At his hips, she eased to her fingertips, feather light touch teasing along the angular muscles and that incredibly feminine, high mewling whine returned once more. Slowly, she ghosted her fingers down, inching her way until she reached the base of his shaft where she grasped him firmly.

“Please, Mal,” he pleaded. “I need you.” The desire in his voice matched the insistent glare in his eyes and she couldn’t pull her own away. With her eyes glued to his, she angled the crown of his cock to her heat and spared only a second to tease him briefly before rocking back and sheathing him to the hilt roughly.

Amallia cried out at the return of that full, filled sensation and her moan coupled with Cullen’s gasp at her sudden stroke. She flexed her legs, rising up his shaft nearly to the tip and then slowly slipped back down his length in one fluid motion. Her hands sought out her breasts, rolling the pink peaks between her fingers as she set a steady pace, stroking his cock with each slap of their bodies as she rode him.

“Oh, fuck, yes, ride me,” he babbled, one hand grasping her hip and the other flitting to her core to rub relentlessly at her clit.

For third time that evening, her orgasm was upon her in minutes, threatening to consume her whole. “Cullen, I'm … I’m …” her thought abandoned her as the swell of his cock edged her another inch closer to her release.

“Come with me, Mal,” he demanded, hips rising up to meet hers. “I’m so close, I want to  _fill_  you.”

She pitched forward, hands slapping to his chest for contact, feeling the racing beat of his heart as he grunted at his impending orgasm.

With one last thrust of his hips, his cock twitched repeatedly and Cullen growled as he came. The hot spurts of his seed filling her with each pulse shoved her violently over the edge and she growled her own moan of pleasure as her back curved, rutting on his pulsing length to extract every last ounce of arousal left to them.

There was not a single thing in the world that compared to the feeling of Cullen’s completely spent body beneath hers. Amallia collapsed atop him, breathless in the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. His embrace rivaled that sensation, arms wrapping tightly around her back, holding her to him tightly as her fingers sought his hair.

“What … in the holy name of Andraste … was  _that_?” she breathed as she looked up to his eyes.

His lips quirked into a grin that she knew all too well. “Something I’ve been trying to work up the courage to do for weeks. And since it’s our  _anniversary_  this evening, I figured, why not tonight? Although, I wasn’t prepared for this,” he admitted as he fingered the hollow of her neck and she jumped in shock.

“Maker, me neither. I had no clue. And I was equally surprised at … well,” she trailed off as she reached down to brush a light finger along the crest of his hip. Another feminine whine, soft and short, escaped his lips and even Cullen looked shocked to hear the sound coming from him.

“I … don’t understand it,” he stammered. “Your touch and that damned  _spot_  reduce me to a whimpering mess every time.”

Amallia gave him a grin of her own and she spoke. “ _That_  is a sound I cannot wait to hear more of.”

Cullen’s cheeks colored as he scoffed. “Andraste’s tits,  _no_ , it’s terrible, I sound so … so ridiculous.”

“Oh, I disagree. It’s quite erotic, coming from someone like you,” she explained. “Besides, I’m the only one that knows and I think of you as no less a man for it.”

His grimace eased with that and he relaxed once more. “I suppose it’s not so bad then,” he began as he looked to the clock beside the table. “We have to go soon.”

“What?”

“It’s a surprise,” he said. “We’re leaving in about an hour. I picked out a dress for you, it’s hanging in the bathroom. I hope you don’t mind.”

Amallia giggled as she sat up to stand and make her way to the bathroom. “I don’t mind in the least. Saves me the time of being indecisive,” she said over her shoulder. From the bathroom she called, “Where are we going?”

In the mirror she saw him enter the bathroom to stand behind her, arms wrapping around her hips. “It’s a surprise,” he whispered into her ear. “For our anniversary.”

She turned to face him, hands on his chest as she considered his gaze with a stare of her own. “Alright, I won’t push …” her thought trailed off as something over his shoulder caught her eye. With a scrutinizing squint, she noticed her black Calenhad Players dress hanging from the back of the bathroom door. “Cullen …”

He looked over his shoulder and smirked. “I can’t help it. I love that dress. I still remember the first time I saw you wearing it.”

She made a disgusted sound at the memory. “That night was terrible; how can you look back on it so fondly?”

“Because everything is different, now.  _So_ different …” he quieted, eyes pulling away from hers.

There was clearly something bothering him. She waited for him to continue, but when he didn’t, she spoke. “Are you—”

His eyes returned hers and her words died on her tongue, his look of such profound love and … was that nerves she saw there, hidden behind the way he felt for her?

“Marry me?” he asked.

“What?!”

“I … oh, Maker’s breath, I was going to do this at dinner … and we  _weren’t_  supposed to be  _naked_  … I just couldn’t wait any longer, it’s been eating away at me all day—”

Her lips crashed down onto his, silencing his rambled thoughts, and she felt his shock of hesitation for only a second before he returned her passion two-fold.

With a gasping breath, Amallia parted from him and Cullen asked, “Well?”

“Oh give me a break, you  _know_  it’s a yes! A million times, yes!”

That brief fantasy was interrupted as she paused before her door, curiosity piqued.

A black piece of paper, carefully folded in half, was stuck to the center of her door. She plucked it from the wood and thumbed the flap open to reveal silvery ink plied by a slanted hand she knew all too well.

_I’m no good at riddles but I can still get you thinking, heart racing. To start, you’ll need to turn around and unlock the door. Be patient. Before you enter, close your eyes, and trust me._


End file.
